The name Orphan Homes of Scotland implies the children who went there were orphans. That wasn’t always the case. My father wasn’t an orphan. He was one of ten children and after his mother died when he was just two years old, his father had a stroke and couldn’t look after the family.
Grandpa Robertson was married twice. The children from his first marriage helped out as best they could, but in the end, my father and four of his siblings (all from the second marriage) who were sent off to the Orphan Homes of Scotland.
Because there was no such thing as co-ed living, sisters couldn’t stay in the same house as their brothers. Brothers couldn’t even visit their sisters without the housemother’s consent and only for a short time.
After my father came to Canada, he worked on a number of farms in the Brockville area and enlisted with the Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry Highlanders during World War II.
Phillips Cables (sadly now the property is just an empty lot) provided him with employment from the time my father returned from the war and while he worked there, he met my mother.
Sadly, I lost my Dad on April 29, 1969 as the result of a workplace injury. He may not be with me anymore but he lives on in my heart.
My Scottish roots and writing by Melanie Robertson-King